


Two Nights in Paris

by wyse_ink



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Character Study, Engagement, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Post-Canon, Relationship Study, Romance, Sexual Content, Soft M Rating, Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-03
Updated: 2017-08-04
Packaged: 2018-11-08 15:40:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11084688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wyse_ink/pseuds/wyse_ink
Summary: Life and love: two words starting with the same letter, mutually existing for each other. One is simple, the other not.When Victor whisks Yuri away to Paris for the weekend, they might just find themselves asking which is which.





	1. The First Night

**Author's Note:**

> Drop me a comment if you have the time!
> 
> Do not copy, re-post, or plagiarize any portion of this work. 
> 
> Note: This work was titled prior to the author's realization that there was a film by a similar name.
> 
> NEXT CHAPTER INFO: Chapter 2 is scheduled to release Saturday, June 17th.

        Yuri had been certain he was used to surprises. In a sense, he expected them from Victor, and from the beginning, it seemed it had become a defining factor in their relationship as coach and student, as skaters, as lovers. Victor himself had admitted more than a few times that Yuri had surprised him too, but as they stood in the lobby of a Parisian hotel, Yuri found it hard to believe that the nature of these surprises were equal.  
        What he’d thought would be a weekend away from skating had somehow turned into an oddly vague announcement from Victor, a hurried luggage packing session, a loving goodbye to Makkachin and his new weekend babysitter, Mila (as Victor had worried that such a rushed weekend trip would be hard on his beloved friend at his age), and a race to the airport early the next morning.  
        Presently, Yuri stood back, listening as his fiancé conversed with the clerk in quiet French. Despite the rush they’d been in only hours before only for their flight to arrive late, Victor seemed at ease. Yuri wished he could feel the same. The series of minor stress-inducing factors leading up to the trip he hadn’t even known he was taking until the night before were weighing on him, and he hadn’t been doing as well as he hoped in training. He was less consistent with his jumps, and more than a few times, Victor had noted that some of his movements seemed forced.  
        “You’re doing it again, Yuri,” he’d said even yesterday, before asking what was on his mind. Yuri had skated over to him, shoulders slumped and tense, barely hearing the advice Victor had proceeded to give and the questions he raised. Yuri himself hadn’t known the answers, and after another lackluster attempt, Victor had suggested they call it a day.  
        As he watched Victor thank the clerk, he wondered if this was his way as a coach to force a distraction from his nerves. If that was the case, his only option was to give in to it and hope it worked. A spontaneous trip to Paris might’ve been a good idea any other weekend, but Yuri had his concerns, especially with the next competition being just around the corner. Those concerns wavered a bit as Victor approached him, a small smile forming across his handsome face.  
        “Ready?” he asked, taking the handle of his suitcase and starting toward the elevator. Yuri nodded absently and followed.  
        Their room was on the top floor. Victor produced the key from his pocket and unlocked the door, pushing it open with one hand and holding it, letting Yuri make his way in first. The room was larger than anticipated, especially considering the hotel's size. The building itself was old, well-kept with the sort of charm typical for the old cities of western Europe. Victor had mentioned something similar when they’d first arrived, and Yuri had failed to suppress a smile. Even he wasn’t sure how many times Victor had visited the famous city, but he still marveled at every little thing. He started to turn back toward him when something caught his eye.  
        “Victor.” He walked to the doors leading to their small balcony and opened them, hearing his fiancé’s light footsteps behind him. Dusk had settled over the city, and perfectly framed from their room was the Eiffel Tower, already alit for the night. Yuri set his hands on the railing. There was a crispness to the air, still cool for this time of year, but not unpleasant. It felt warm in fact, he couldn’t help but think, to the recent temperatures in St. Petersburg. He felt his fiancé’s arms arms brush against the outside of his as Victor rested his hands over his.  
        “Beautiful, isn’t it?” he murmured, his breath tickling Yuri’s ear. Yuri gave a small nod. Silence fell over them as they took in the sights, asidse from the cars that made their way slowly down the street below them. On the sidewalks, people walked, some in groups, others in pairs, with a few lone wolves mixed in. Yuri’s eyes drifted to a balcony at the hotel across the street from theirs, where a well-dressed couple laughed and stood together, posing as the man angled his phone in a way that would allow the camera to capture the cityscape behind them. They seemed young, Yuri thought, watching the woman playfully slap the man’s chest as they looked at the result. Even though they looked no older than he was.  
        It was a feeling that had started to surface every so often, especially after he had so seriously considered retirement after the Grand Prix last year. His competitors seemed younger every year, and somehow more menacing. Among these was Yuri Plisetsky, the young Russian skater who was both rival and rinkmate to Yuri himself. Yuri--or Yurio, as he’d been nicknamed--had secured the gold medal in his first ever Grand Prix as a senior and hadn’t let up since. As a competitor, he was frightening. More than a few times, Yuri had even seen Victor taken aback by the young prodigy’s feats, even though he’d been in a similar position himself at that age. The battle for the gold had been between the two of them in the competition before last, which Victor had secured, just barely.  
        It had been strange to Yuri that he’d been so unsure of the results. He’d watched Victor win for as long as he could remember, always knowing that no matter who he competed against, it would be Victor standing in the center, gold medal draped around his neck. But Yuri had had his doubts when he’d watched Yurio skate against him. Victor himself had commented on his own performance in comparison to Yurio’s, and had seemed surprised when he’d received a higher score. For a while now, Yuri had started to understand just how fierce his competition was. He seemed to consistently occupy the second place spot, but if he had to skate against them both?  
        His chest grew tight at the thought. He still hadn’t won a gold medal, and the longer he skated, the more unobtainable it seemed. He'd come close in the last competition. Very close. He glanced down at Victor’s hand over his and the gold rings that flickered, reflecting the city lights. _But not close enough._  
        Victor shifted suddenly, angling his left wrist and glancing at his watch. “Want to go out for dinner?” he asked, and when Yuri nodded, he finished with a content, “okay.” Yuri took a step back as Victor released him and watched as his fiancé quickly checked his reflection in the mirror. Yuri closed the doors, and they were off.

***

        “Another.”  
        Victor tilted the wine bottle carefully, watching its contents fill Yuri’s wine glass. They’d stopped at a crowded little cafe with a red awning and outdoor seating close to their hotel. It was one Victor had visited before and remembered for the dessert and wine selection, which he and Yuri were both enjoying fully. Or, more importantly, Victor thought, Yuri seemed to be enjoying fully. Over time, Victor had picked up on some of the more subtle signals his fiancé displayed, especially those that hinted he was tense or upset. It’d been a necessity as his coach; Yuri didn’t tend to express his frustrations verbally. Instead, he became distant, his shoulders pitching forward slightly, and he would begin to repeat the most mundane actions over and over. It’d been most common in the last days leading up to a big competition, and often afterward when Yuri hadn’t secured a gold medal. To Victor, these signs were good. They meant Yuri was still hungry for the win, that he was ready to go back into the fight. But for a while now, those signs had been diminishing, and when he'd received his scores at the last competition,Yuri had exhibited none of them.  
        That terrified Victor.  
        “Yuri,” he began, his voice fading as his fiancé turned, blinking at him curiously. Victor took in his messy, black hair and the heavy lashes that framed his brown eyes. He looked peaceful, Victor thought, sighing as he pushed his attempted conversation out of his mind. “I’m glad you’re here with me,” he said instead. Yuri’s eyes widened slightly, a faint blush appearing on his cheeks.  
        “Oh...me too,” he replied awkwardly, quickly taking a sip of his wine.  
        Victor suppressed a smirk. How was it that a man who was so easily flustered by compliments or expressions of gratitude could bare his soul on the ice in the way that Yuri did? At first, Victor had thought it was as though Yuri were two different people entirely. There was the Yuri that he coached: insecure, shy at times, and a little distant. That was not the Yuri that often caught the eye. But the other version of Yuri? That was one who demanded people’s focus, who captivated the world with his charm and allure.  
        But now, Victor wasn’t so sure. Yuri could embody different characters for his programs, and it was true that his moods could be drastically different from one day to the next, but underneath it all was undeniably the same man. He was tougher than he looked, but vulnerable no matter which persona he adopted. He was distant, but not in a way that seemed at all cold or aloof. And he was, Victor thought as Yuri set his now-empty wine glass down, impossibly alluring, even though he still clearly had no knowledge of it.  
        He was also very good at keeping things to himself.  
        “Yuri, listen,” Victor tried again. He paused as his fiancé turned to him expectantly, no doubt knowing the topic that was about to come up. One he seemed already prepared to deflect, Victor noted by his look. “We really need to talk about your last performance.”  
        “We don’t have to tonight,” Yuri countered before he could continue. “Besides, I thought you’d been trying to distract me.”  
        “I have.”  
        “So distract me.” Yuri’s voice was firm, but there was a hint of playfulness in his tone. Victor sighed, a sad smile crossing his face.  
        “I’m still your coach, Yuri.”  
        “I’m still your protégé. But...I’d rather if we didn’t be that way right now.”  
        Victor couldn’t argue with that. “We don’t have to talk about it now, but we will at some point. At least before the next competition.”  
        His fiancé didn’t reply, and Victor knew there was no point in pressing him further. He’d planted the idea, and even if Yuri tried to avoid the topic again, he might at least be able to work something out on his own. But that, Victor thought as he packed up what was left of the wine, was best left for later. “Want to get out of here?”  
        Yuri nodded. They stood and pushed in their chairs, thanking the waiter as they passed. Night had fallen around them and the nightlife emerged: Parisians and tourists alike, all excited and dressed for one adventure or another. Victor wondered how they must look to them, already half-drunk on wine and walking back to their hotel. He should be taking his fiancé for a night out on the town, but at the same time, it was hard to ignore how tired they both were, especially after Yuri had expressed it. And it was a nice evening, even if it was chilly for this time of year. Vaguely aware of how his fiancé eyed him curiously in his peripheral vision, he draped his arm over his shoulders and gave his arm a light squeeze. “You know, we don’t have to go back yet.”  
        “It’s not that,” Yuri said. “I just...I was wondering what you’re thinking about.”  
        “A lot of things.” Victor stopped and glanced down at him. He took in his large, brown eyes, blush, and full lips, and gave him the most mischievous look he could muster. “But mostly, my first kiss in Paris.”  
        He didn’t give Yuri time to blink in confusion before pressing his lips against his. He let them linger there for a bit, savoring the taste of them and the traces of wine still left there. To Victor’s surprise, Yuri didn’t hesitate. His lips responded almost instantly, moving into place and returning the chaste, gentle motion. I’ve set myself up, Victor thought as he forced himself to pull away. He tightened his grip around Yuri’s shoulders, ignoring his fiancé’s curious glance as they started off again. He made a mental note to add this to the pile of motives Yuri had clearly been questioning since they’d arrived, and he was glad for it. It meant he was curious, and when Yuri Katsuki wanted something--truly wanted it--he was in it for the win.  
        This time, all factors were within their control.


	2. Introspection

        Mornings in Paris were, as Victor had always thought, like waking up in another world. There was an air of calm about them—of the way the grayish morning light illuminated the walls and floor of the room in streaks through the window. Strangely, it’d been one of the things he remembered most about his first visit there, years ago and under Yakov’s tutelage. He’d been thirteen, maybe fourteen at the time, enjoying the end of his junior career and getting ready to take the next step. That trip had been solely dedicated to competition and its schedule strictly regimented, especially for those in his age group. At the time, it hadn’t bothered him. The opportunities skating had brought him were nothing to scoff at, and he’d been lucky enough to be led here by the sport that had already become his life and livelihood.  
        But…  
        Victor leaned closer to the mirror, bringing a hand to his face. Subtle traces of lines had started to appear at the corners of his eyes, even a hint of them forming at the sides of his mouth—the years already starting to show. Somehow, they seemed more visible in the combination of morning and the hotel’s odd bathroom lighting. It was a very different reflection that the one he’d seen all those years ago: youthful and energetic without effort, his sole priority to give his best performance and win.  
        The latter was certainly a stark contrast to his mentality now.  
        He glanced back through the doorway where Yuri slept, his shoulders rising and falling in a steady rhythm. He’d fallen asleep quickly the night before and slept soundly through it, no doubt with a little help from the wine he’d had at dinner. It was a good sign, Victor thought. Ever since the last competition, Yuri had tossed and turned in his sleep and had been woken up by even the smallest sounds. If Makkachin got up to wander around the apartment, so did Yuri. If the heater started up in the middle of the night, Yuri would wake. Most of the time, Victor pretended to sleep through it, even though it was wearing on him as well. The one time he didn’t, he’d tried to talk to Yuri, but instead only succeeded in Yuri apologizing profusely for waking him and sleeping in the guest room for the past week.  
        Victor sighed. It was tough at times to meet Yuri halfway, as he’d learned to do. Yuri often expressed things on his own time or when he felt ready, no matter what the topic. The problem with that was that important issues—such as his own well-being—often got put on the backburner. That was something that as a coach, Victor couldn’t allow. As his fiancé even less. Knowing when something was bothering Yuri wasn’t the problem anymore, it was solving it. But if he couldn’t always meet him halfway, and if Yuri balked when Victor approached the subject directly, where and when should he even start?  
        Maybe this trip had come at a good time after all. He’d been worried when he’d booked it, even though he’d been careful to plan it when he knew they both had just enough time to enjoy themselves. It was hard to manage personal time with both of them in the same career, even more so with Victor now coaching. His reasons for the trip, too, had been much different then than they were now. Now, he hoped it would serve as a way to readjust Yuri’s train of thought. Maybe at the very least, he would open up to Victor and they could think of a way to fix the problem together.  
        One step at a time, Victor thought, silently making his way to the bed and sitting down at the side. Yuri didn’t budge, and Victor took the opportunity to take in the soft facial features half-buried beneath layers of blankets. There were days when he wondered if he was harming Yuri more than helping him by sticking around. He had more shortcomings as a coach than he could count, and while Yuri didn’t lack experience, Victor frequently felt that his own in this still-new position showed. Yuri’s failures were his failures, yet Yuri was the one who suffered most from them.  
        And Victor had failed him in a way that Yuri refused to acknowledge.  
        He’d been naive to think that his being both coach and competitor wouldn’t strain both aspects of their relationship. As a coach, his attention had been solely on Yuri. He did his best to keep an objective approach when the situation called for it. He made corrections, changed elements whenever necessary to fit Yuri’s strong suits, and even lectured him--albeit gently--when needed. Yuri listened and applied the criticisms, which usually contributed to more productive practice sessions and a stronger performance.  
        As a competitor…  
        Victor had never thought himself better than anyone else. More consistent than some, maybe, but never better. He was a perfectionist who made an effort to pour his heart into every performance. That combined with his dedication to the sport had earned him a successful career for far longer than most skaters were able to have. On top of that, he still had the desire to compete and win. For that, he was lucky. Understanding those good fortunes spurred him to put as much effort into his own skating that he’d grown used to doing with Yuri’s. It allowed him to ignore the aches and pains that had started to afflict him during jumps and that later set in after a long day of skating.  
        When he skated, Yuri watched. Diligently. Even when he couldn’t see Yuri, he could feel his brown eyes boring into him. There was both a warmth to it and a level of pressure that had come with Yuri’s rise to success, both of which Victor welcomed. But there was a downside to it, too, one that’d happened recently.  
        He couldn’t stand the look Yuri had given him when a silver medal had been placed around his neck and a gold around Victor’s own. That terrible look, comprised of genuine happiness for Victor, disappointment with his own score and ranking and, worst of all, acceptance. It was the complete opposite of the wide, brown eyes that had been glued to the screen awaiting Victor’s scores. He’d known as well as Victor what should have been the result. They’d both been ready for it. But when the scores had finally appeared, nothing had changed.  
        Nothing aside from the fact that the very thing Victor had guided Yuri to center his performances around now seemed to be his undoing.  
        “I’m a failure as a coach,” he muttered quietly to himself. As a coach and otherwise. He wondered which was worse. Sighing, he ran a hand through his fiancé’s messy, dark hair. It was something that soothed him, and when Yuri was awake, the gesture seemed to have a similar effect on him. Even now, Yuri seemed to sink deeper into the mattress. He looked peaceful, serene...and entirely too comfortable.  
        “Yuri.” He placed a hand on his shoulder, shaking him gently. For a moment, Yuri didn’t move. His brow furrowed slightly in his sleep as Victor shook him again. “Yuri.”  
        “Mm.” Yuri’s eyes opened slightly and closed again. He pulled the blanket tighter around himself and turned over, leaving his back to Victor. Victor smirked. Sleeping Beauty rarely woke easily. He leaned down close enough so that his lips barely hovered over his fiancé’s ear.  
        “Yuuuuri.”  
        Yuri didn’t respond. Releasing his drowsy fiancé, Victor stood again and made his way to the balcony doors, swinging them open and letting light and cool morning air pour into the room. Already, the city was alive, and the sight made their room seem dreary in comparison.  
        Slowly, he turned back to his fiancé. Yuri had already drifted back to sleep, his slender frame unmoving. Victor checked his watch and glanced back at him, an idea suddenly forming in the back of his mind. He took off, covering the ground with two large steps and diving toward the bed. Yuri yelped as Victor’s body collided with the mattress, springs creaking as they bounced the smaller skater into the air.  
        “I’m awake!” he gasped, sitting up and fumbling for his glasses.  
        “Now you are,” Victor said as Yuri turned to him, clearly still disoriented. He turned and sat up, his voice more gentle when he spoke again. “You finally slept well.”  
        Yuri rubbed his eyes and gave a half nod in response. Victor watched as he slipped on his glasses, squinting as his eyes adjusted to the light and he took in the room around him. His gaze fixated on the open doors and the scene beyond them, a familiar expression washing over him. It was one Victor had learned to read well: both reserved and intrigued, but more importantly, content.  
        Victor reached out and gently ruffled his hair. “Dress comfortably,” he said, a small smile crossing his face as his fiancé blinked at him. “We have a long day ahead.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drop me a comment if you have the time! I always appreciate them.
> 
> Do not copy, re-post, or plagiarize any portion of this work. 
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	3. Within the Frames

      Yuri wasn’t sure how many photos they had taken. It seemed that Victor had his phone in hand every few minutes, grabbing Yuri’s hand and pulling him into the shot with him. A couple of times these photos had included a third party much to Yuri’s embarrassment, as a fan would recognize them--usually only Victor at first--and either nervously or boldly ask for a photo. Victor had always agreed immediately, which meant Yuri had had no choice. As the day had progressed, these requests had lessened, and they’d managed to meander through the city largely uninterrupted.  
       It really was beautiful. A blend of the ornate and quaint, with new sights and people everywhere. Victor seemed to know something about every place, and he relayed this information to Yuri with a kind of wonder as if he was experiencing it for the first time himself. Yuri couldn’t help but get the feeling that in some way, he was.  
       “One more,” Victor said, reaching for Yuri’s hand and waving his phone in the other. They’d stopped to picnic near the tower, something Victor had insisted on doing and something Yuri was glad he had. To his surprise, they’d managed to find everything they’d needed only a short walk from Champs du Mars, and Victor had managed to secure a perfect, less conspicuous spot where they’d enjoyed their lunch and surroundings. He sighed, suppressing a smile as he met his fiancé’s enthusiastic gaze.  
       “Why another?”  
       “This one’s just for us,” Victor replied, scooting closer and draping his arm over Yuri’s shoulder. A prickle of heat rose to Yuri’s cheeks as the image came into view and focus. Victor angled his phone carefully so that both were centered. Without warning, he turned and gave Yuri a peck on the cheek as the camera snapped, the now frozen image on the screen depicting the moment. A familiar prickle of heat rose to Yuri’s cheeks as he took it in.  
       “Beautiful,” Victor said quietly, interrupting Yuri’s thoughts. “Do you like it?”  
       A small smile crossed Yuri’s face in confirmation. He did. It wasn’t the first time he had noticed how much they contrasted each other in appearance. Usually, he hadn’t thought it was a good thing. It wasn’t so simple as a difference in height or coloring, but rather that Victor was and always had been beautiful. Inarguably so. Even when they’d been touring all morning, he looked vibrant, his light hair and blue eyes shining in every photo they’d taken. Yuri rarely thought the same of himself.  
       And yet....  
       “Where next?” he asked. Victor brought his finger to his lips and beamed.  
       “I was hoping you had something in mind.”  
       “Me?”  
       “Why not?” Victor asked. “We’ve both been here before.”  
       “Not like this.” The words slipped out before Yuri could stop them, and he flushed. Victor raised an eyebrow, his smile turning mischievous, then soft. Yuri opened his mouth to correct himself, but paused. He’d meant it, and Victor understood. There was no sense in retracting it now, no matter how embarrassing it’d sounded.  
       “Neither have I.” Victor placed his hand over Yuri’s, his thumb lightly tracing the side. “I really am glad you’re here with me.”  
       “Me too.” Yuri looked into the blue eyes that had grown so familiar. He studied his eyes, his brow, light hair, and lips. There was no face like this, not to him. There never had been. Not one he could look at and know and admire and trust in the same way Victor could. There were so many things Yuri hadn’t known before he’d met him, and so many risks he never would have taken.  
       And he was braver for it.  
       “Shopping.” Yuri stood, releasing his fiancé and dusting himself off. “That’s what I want to do next.” Victor beamed and held out his hand, letting his engagement ring glisten in the sunlight.  
       “Are you planning to surprise me again?” he asked teasingly. “I guess I could wear two.”  
       “Very funny.” Yuri grabbed his hand again as Victor stood. “So, which are the best stores?”  
       “All of them.” Victor slung his arm around Yuri shoulders. “But I know where to start.”  
       The big brands came first. It wasn’t the first time Yuri had observed that Victor was something of a savant when it came to navigating a city for rare and quality items. He’d experienced this firsthand in Barcelona, where what he’d thought would be somewhat casual visits to popular tourist destinations and blossomed into something far more special. They stopped at designer retail stores and boutiques, pastry and book shops. As the afternoon went on, Yuri’s arms began to grow tired. He hadn’t bought much--not nearly as much as Victor had, at least, who carried three bags per hand--but enough to weigh on him. It wasn’t unpleasant though, he thought as they neared a smaller boutique with a clean, white exterior. He paused, taking in the scene displayed in the windows. It was an interesting scene, he thought, taking in the large photos on that lined the walls inside and the clothing inside.  
       “Victor,” he said, and his fiancé stopped. “What about this one?”  
       Victor turned and took in the scene. “I’m not familiar with it,” he admitted, starting toward the door and holding it open for Yuri. “But it looks promising.”  
       The two of them stepped inside. The interior was small, but well organized. An upbeat French pop song played quietly from some unseen speakers, and a few customers wandered about with pleasant faces. Garments lined either wall, with two small displays in the center, each showcasing both men’s and women’s shoes and bags. A large album was set open on each, filled with what looked to be fashion photos depicting different pieces in the room. Victor immediately started toward the men’s section, his eyes locked on the photos that lined the walls.  
       “I know this photographer,” he said quietly, nodding at one. Yuri followed his gaze to one of the photos, depicting a handsome middle-aged man in one of the store’s brands posing happily with a beautiful English Setter. “She took some of my photos when I was younger.”  
       Yuri smiled slightly, wondering if he’d seen them. There was so much of Victor’s life he still didn’t know about, especially his earlier years. In some ways he liked the mystery--Victor usually brought up a story if and when it was relevant, and Yuri would piece the bits together one by one. This was no exception. He observed the photo more closely, trying to guess which photos Victor was referring to.  
       “I’m sure they were wonderful,” he said quietly. In his peripheral vision, he could see Victor’s eyes growing distant. He nodded once.  
       “They were my favorites back then.”  
       When he didn’t continue, Yuri turned to a nearby rack and began to shuffle through the clothes. He wondered how many times Victor had posed for photos, how many interviews he’d done. Yuri himself had done plenty, though hardly to the extent his fiancé had. Had he ever grown tired of that side of his career? Did any of it feel different to him now?  
       Yuri considered asking, but decided to save it for another time. He turned his attention to the nearby rack and began examining the clothes. After all of the stores they’d visited that day, it was hardly a surprise to find that the clothes here were of extremely high quality...and highly expensive. Still, he rummaged through, his eye catching the sleeve of a sleek, black sweater near the corner.  
       “Victor?”  
       They both turned to find a woman standing nearby, her eyes wide as she took them in.  
       “My old friend,” the woman said affectionately, placing her hands on Victor’s shoulders and kissing his cheek. Yuri watched as his fiancé did the same, an easy and surprised smile crossing Victor’s face.  
       “It’s good to see you, Claire.”  
       “You too,” she replied, placing one hand under his chin and turning his head. “Still as handsome as ever, if not more so. I wonder...” her voice trailed, and Victor chuckled.  
       “We can talk about it sometime,” he said as she released him. “I have to admit, I’m surprised to see you.”  
       “The feeling is mutual,” she said with a laugh, then added more quietly. “It’s not every day that Victor Nikiforov wanders into your shop.”  
       “Wow. So it _is_ yours,” he replied, raising a finger to his lips. “I’m impressed.”  
       “I should say the same to you with all you’ve done. But enough with all of that,” she said, turning to Yuri. He took a moment to study her as she smiled. She looked to be in her mid-thirties, with long, straight blonde hair and dark blue eyes that studied him from under thick bangs and long lashes. She was dressed simply but well, in dark denim jeans and a loose, white blouse tucked in. There was also something warm about the way she spoke, he noticed as she a hand to him in a way that seemed natural rather than obligatory. He shook it as she continued. “Yuri, you’ve no idea how much I’ve hoped to meet you.”  
       “Me?” Yuri asked, feeling a prickle of heat rising to his cheeks, made worse as Victor stepped forward and put his arm around his shoulders.  
       “Claire’s a photographer,” Victor explained. “Or, was.”  
       Claire held up her hand. “I’d never give up the camera. I’ve merely expanded my enterprise. But that has nothing to do with my reasons for wanting to meet you, and I’ll not overstep my bounds with all that now.” She paused, looking over Yuri’s shoulder as a small group of customers entered and waved her hand. “I’m so sorry, but I’m afraid we’ll have to catch up later. Please look around, enjoy yourselves, and let me know if you see anything you like.”  
       With that she was off, leaving Yuri to blink after her. Victor gave his arm a squeeze.  
       “She hasn’t changed at all,” he said. “Friendly and always in a hurry.”  
       Yuri watched her for a moment as she talked with the customers that had just entered. One had her eyes on them, as if trying to decide if she recognized them or not. The look was short-lived, though, as Claire directed her attention to one of the shoes on display. He turned then, branching off from his fiancé and taking in the contents of the room. It seemed to be divided into six sections, with casual, business, and more formal wear for both genders. Yuri made his way to the men’s, examining the cashmere sweater he’d spotted earlier. He drifted along the racks, following the designs until he came upon a rack of suits, and at the end...  
       His glanced back at Victor. The other skater was looking through an album from the center display, and Yuri turned back, closely examining a black tuxedo jacket. A strange, tingling feeling washed over him as he felt the fabric, his ring reflecting the store lights.  
       “Did you find something?”  
       The sudden voice made him jump, and he turned to where Claire stood nearby. He nodded and quickly released the fabric, glancing back at his fiancé again.  
       “May I try this one?” he blurted, and without missing a beat, Claire stepped in then and took the jacket from the rack, making a small gesture toward the back.  
       “While he’s preoccupied,” she said, and started away. Perplexed, Yuri followed. They passed through a curtain into what appeared to be a large fitting room with a mirror and wooden platform inside. “I’ll fetch your size,” she told him, hanging the jacket on the rack. Yuri watched as she opened a door to the back and disappeared. Within an instant, she’d returned, with the same jacket and matching trousers, a dress shirt, and a plain, black bow tie in a smaller size. He watched her as she removed the protective coverings and started toward the curtain.  
       “Go ahead,” she said, making her way toward the curtain again. “I’ll make sure he doesn’t barge in. You’ll see why,” she added as he raised an eyebrow. With that she slipped through the curtain, and he heard the sound of her heels click-clacking away.   With his head spinning, he started to get undressed. He tossed aside his t-shirt, jacket, and jeans, slowly making his way to the rack. I’m really doing this, he thought, reaching for the trousers. Silently, he slipped them on.  
       Yuri had never given weddings much thought. He’d been to several in his life, from family members’ to friends. Yet only recently had he ever thought about how his own might be, or even the possibility that he might marry at all. Somehow, it had only seemed like just that: a possibility. Even when he’d given Victor a ring in Barcelona, and even when Victor had slipped one on his own finger.  
Yuri’s fingers trembled as he buttoned up the shirt.  
       “Yuri?”  
       “Yes, I’m ready,” he said instinctively, and Claire stepped inside. She watched as he struggled to slip the jacket on for a moment before stepping forward to help him.  
       “It’s all right,” she said, her voice lower than before. “You’re not the first, you know.”  
       “Huh?”  
       Claire brushed off the jacket shoulders and began to tie his bow tie. “Sometimes it’s hard to picture ourselves in a situation before we take the chance to put ourselves in it. I was terrified when I tried on my first wedding dress.” Seeming satisfied with the tie, she took a step back, examining him with a trained eye. “It’s a great fit. May I?”  
       Yuri nodded slowly and stepped onto the platform, and she produced a hair tie from her wrist and pulled her hair into a ponytail. “When my husband proposed to me, neither one of us had any idea what to expect. We were both busy. I had just quit the magazine I’d been working on and was still learning this business, and he had his own to deal with. I was happy to be engaged, but sometimes it seemed like an afterthought.” She knelt down and began to adjust the hem on his trousers.  
       “I apologize for being so vague earlier about why I wanted to meet you,” she continued quietly. “I’ve known Victor for a long time, professionally. He was beautiful as a boy, he wore the clothes for the shoot well, but still something was wrong with the photos. My boss didn’t take notice of this and published them anyway. It wasn’t until later that I realized what that problem was. Turn around.” Yuri complied.  
       “His face was too stiff. Poses were effortless, but he was putting work into his expression. I thought maybe he was just uncomfortable or inexperienced in the shoot, but then I noticed it sometimes in his skating too, even when he’d win.  
       “After I had the chance to photograph him again a few years later, and I was sure of it. He was still charming, no doubt, but I found him...distant, you might say.”  
       Yuri nodded slowly, thinking he knew. It was the same way he’d felt when Victor had first become his coach. “I never knew what he was thinking when I first met him,” he admitted, surprising himself. Claire hummed in agreement.  
       “I kept thinking he seemed different watching him skate this past year when I got the chance, and hearing what he had to say as a coach.” She made one last adjustment and stepped back to admire her handiwork. A soft smile crossed her face, and she met his gaze. “I can’t help but think you had something to do with it.” She made a gesture toward the mirror, appearing to take no notice in how his face turned a faint shade of pink. Slowly, he turned, eyes widening at what he saw. The man in the mirror resembled him--the face was his, at least. The rest was a different story. He hadn’t noticed when he’d selected the tux that it was slim fit, but looking at it now, he was glad for it. The black fabric hugged his body beautifully without being restricting, and it was surprisingly light. He shifted, turning to the side and back again.  
       It was perfect.  
       He glanced back at Claire, lost for words.  
       “Should I call him in?” she asked quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. The question broke him from his trance as reality sunk in. Him. His fiancé. _I’m getting married. I_ will _get married._ They still had no set date and little more than the basis of a plan, but he was engaged. He would commit the rest of his life to someone else, and that someone was Victor Nikiforov. His pace quickened, and he nodded once. Claire smiled and disappeared through the curtain, leaving them alone.  
       Victor’s voice was audible over the music as he heard them utter a brief exchange in French, followed by the sound of approaching footsteps. Yuri caught his breath as the curtain was drawn back slightly. “Yuri, are you-” Yuri watched as his fiancé froze, his eyes locking on the reflection in the mirror, then on Yuri himself.  
       “I thought I’d try it,” Yuri stuttered, a sudden wave of shyness threatening to wash over him. Wordlessly, Victor let the curtain fall behind him. He stepped onto the small platform with Yuri and placed his hands on Yuri’s arms. Instinctively, Yuri folded his arm and covered Victor’s ring hand in his, giving his fingers a small squeeze as their eyes met in the mirror. In some ways, Victor would always be a mystery to him, full of thoughts and memories Yuri would never know of. There would be times he’d struggle to understand what he was thinking, but right now, he understood perfectly. He took in the mistiness of his fiancé’s blue eyes and the slight trembling of his hands. He took in the scent of his cologne and the feeling of his heartbeat against him. Silently, Yuri tilted his head back, inviting the kiss that followed. It was chaste, timid even on Victor’s end as their lips brushed and lingered there, tasting, savoring, and trembling. Maybe the reality had finally hit them both, but for now, neither wanted to break the spell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! This fic has been a very important project for me, and I'm so grateful to those of you who've been willing to follow Victor and Yuri on this quirky little journey. 
> 
> Next up: What Happens in Paris ;)
> 
> [Do not copy, re-post, or plagiarize any portion of this work].
> 
> *Update as of July 7, 2017: I finally have a lot of time to work on the fic this weekend, so expect the next chapter very soon!


	4. What Happens in Paris

       Claire hadn’t let them leave empty-handed. The time after she’d returned had been a whirlwind consisting of a brief catching up with Victor, of offering clothes to both and ended with the two leaving with a new ensemble for only a small fraction of the charge. For Yuri, that’d meant the black, lightweight sweater he’d first eyed when he walked in, paired with cropped charcoal trousers that Claire had recommended. Victor had opted for a knit V-neck and blazer to match, and when they’d left, Claire had slipped a business card into Yuri’s bag.  
       “For when you decide,” she’d murmured, a warm smile crossing her face. Once they were back on the street, Yuri had taken it out and read. There was her contact information, along a note scrawled across the back in hurried cursive: _It’ll only cost a favor._ When Yuri had asked Victor what this meant, his fiancé had laughed.  
       “She wants to photograph you,” he’d explained, glancing down at him. “I can’t say I blame her.”  
       Yuri had blushed at this. Ever since Victor had seen him in the tux, he’d barely taken his eyes off him--less than usual, in fact. He certainly hadn’t let go--even now, he held his hand as they walked down the street, unconcerned with the fact that they’d both had to slip the shopping bag handles over their wrists to do so. But it wasn’t just that. There was something in the way he’d caught Victor looking at him that he couldn’t describe, no matter how badly he wanted to. But maybe, he thought as they rounded the corner onto a familiar street, he wasn’t meant to.  
       “Wait, are we going back?” he asked with a pause, and Victor nodded.  
       “Just to drop everything off,” he explained. “Besides, we need to change.”  
       “Change?”  
       “For our dinner reservation.”  
       Yuri’s eyes widened slightly at the news. It was the first time Victor had mentioned it, and it seemed strange that Victor had kept it from him. He nodded slowly and gave his fiance’s hand a gentle squeeze in response. After a short bus ride and a few more minutes of walking they’d reached their hotel and room, and Yuri had locked himself in the bathroom and changed into his new clothes. He stared at his reflection, his eyes drifting over the fit and finally to his hair, messy after the long day out. He grabbed a comb and slicked it back.  
       “Yuri, are you ready?”  
       Yuri felt his heart skip a beat at the sound of his fiancé’s muffled voice through the door. Why does it feel so different now? Taking a deep breath, he brought his hands to his face. His skin was hot to the touch, and with his hair pushed back the color there was only more visible.  
       “Yuri?”  
       “I’m ready.” He inhaled again and pulled his shoulders back, turning away from the mirror and opening the doors. He found Victor standing near the room’s desk fastening his watch. He turned to Yuri then, freezing as their eyes locked. Yuri watched Victor’s eyes drift, and found his own doing the same. His fiancé looked beautiful. His skin seemed to glow in contrast to the dark colors he wore, his eyes--somehow, Yuri thought--seemed an even richer blue. His vision trailed down from them, taking in his lips and the curve of his jaw. He took in his neck and the hollow just above the collarbone that teased beneath his shirt. “We’d better get going,” he managed finally, making a weak gesture toward the door.  
Victor didn’t say anything as he clicked his watch into place. He made one last adjustment to his blazer and started toward the door, a small smile crossing his face as Yuri joined him.  
       “So,” Yuri began as the door closed behind them. “Where are you taking me?”  
       “You’ll see.”  
       They made their way down the hall and onto the elevator in silence. Yuri tugged at his sleeve, anxious and excited and nervous all at once. It was almost similar to the way he felt before each major competition, with all the same uncertainty and focus. He rubbed his hands together lightly, pausing as the cool gold of his ring touched his other hand. It was similar, he thought as the doors opened and they made their way toward the exit, but the reason was different. As if in response to this thought, Victor draped an arm across his shoulders. Dusk had fallen over the city, and not too far away, the Eiffel Tower twinkled.  
       “That,” Victor said, giving Yuri a quick squeeze and nodding toward it, “is where we’re going.”  
       “Again?” Yuri asked, and his fiancé laughed.  
       “No,” Victor replied. “This is different.”

***

 

       Yuri had heard of the restaurants inside the tower, but never once had he pictured himself there, seated next to a window and overlooking the city as night fell over it. Victor sat across from him, sitting back comfortably in his chair. When they’d first arrived he’d marveled at everything, from the view, to the menu, to the strange design of the dishes that’d been placed at the table neatly. The food itself had been excellent, and Yuri had found himself savoring every bite as Victor told him stories of his many trips to Paris. Six courses later, he’d grown quiet, a pensive expression crossing his face as he seemed to become lost in thought. Yuri watched him, taking the last sips of his wine, his eyes drifting to the gold band on his fiancé’s finger.  
       Barcelona had been a blur--much different than the scene now, where the two of them were on their own time, not bogged down by a rigorous skating schedule or by the other skaters’ whims. The entire purpose of this trip--the entire feel of it--was different. A distraction, Yuri thought, remembering their conversation the night after they’d arrived. It was a distraction from skating, from his lackluster week, from his second-place ranking at the last competition.  
      _We’ll get married once he wins a gold medal._  
       He nearly had, but again it had slipped from his grasp. He paused for a minute, setting his glass down and fighting the urge to clench his fist. Victor was still his coach. He’d wanted Yuri to win since he’d taken on that role, and not once after they’d made their deal had he come through. He’d wanted Victor to return to the ice, to compete with him on equal ground. He’d been sure of it, so why was it that it felt that the ice was the only thing left keeping him away?  
He sighed, wondering if he was just being impatient. Earlier in the store, everything had seemed so certain. He had seen himself there in black, a ring on his finger and with Victor at his side. He was sure from the expression Victor had worn that he’d seen it too. So why hadn’t Yuri been able to uphold his end of the deal? What was a deal worth if it couldn’t be met?  
       “Yuri?”  
       Yuri hurriedly looked up, immediately feeling a pang of guilt as he saw Victor’s face. He waved a hand dismissively and reached out, letting his fingertips rest against his fiancé’s. “Sorry,” he murmured. “I was just thinking.”  
       “About?”  
       Yuri hesitated. About something I can’t change, he thought. About something I already know. His eyes drifted back down to his fiancé’s hand, settling over his gold ring. “The last competition.” He was being ridiculous--too anxious--and he knew it. He sighed and expressed this to Victor with a self-deprecating chuckle.  
       To his surprise, Victor’s hand tensed in response, then slowly reached for his. He turned his hand over, gently gripping Yuri’s fingertips and tracing his ring with his thumb. For a moment he was quiet, and for the first time, Yuri suspected he was taking extra care before voicing his thoughts.  
       “Yuri, if I ask you something, do you promise to answer honestly? Even if it’s hard?”  
       Slowly, Yuri nodded.  
       “What did you think of your last performance?”  
       Yuri blinked at him. “I thought...my turns could have been cleaner, and-”  
       “They were perfect,” Victor interrupted, giving his hand a squeeze. “Your step sequence was perfect. Your jumps were perfect.”  
       Yuri stared at him wide-eyed. While he wasn’t a stranger to Victor’s praise, it was the first time he’d ever heard the term “perfect” used without an “almost” before or a “but” after. To top it off, Victor’s hand was trembling, barely enough for the eye to see, but more than enough for Yuri to feel. He stared at him, taking in his fiancé’s practiced, calm expression. Yuri watched him as their eyes met and Victor took a deep breath.  
       “Did you win the last competition?”  
       “What?”  
       “You promised you’d answer me honestly,” Victor said gently. “I’m not asking who was standing on the center podium.” He was squeezing Yuri’s hand more tightly now--so tightly it almost hurt. Despite his even tone his eyes searched Yuri’s, as though he were desperate for a specific answer, and one that Yuri thought he knew. Yuri held his gaze.  
       “Yes.”  
       “Yes what?”  
       “Yes, I won,” Yuri answered, suppressing the urge to look away as he said it. Victor’s hand loosened around his.  
       “Yuri...thank goodness.” Yuri blinked at him in confusion, and Victor let out a long sigh, his shoulders rolling forward and his eyes closing. When he looked up again, his expression was soft. “They over-scored me on my free skate.” Yuri felt his own eyes soften at that, and Victor seemed to take notice, a small smirk threatening to form at the corners of his lips. “You knew that, didn’t you?”  
       “I…” Yuri paused. “It doesn’t change anything.”  
       “It does.”  
       “No, it doesn’t.” Yuri released his fiancé’s hand. “I’m still going to win gold. Maybe I didn’t last time, but I haven’t changed my mind about this.” His face flushed as he realized the implication of the last part, and a knowing smile crossed Victor’s face.  
       “Neither have I.”  
       Yuri studied his fiancé, his familiar blue eyes, long lashes, and silver hair. He studied his familiar jawline, his lips, and the gentle curve between his strong shoulders and neck. Glancing down, he reached forward and brushed his Victor’s fingertips with his own, pressing further so that they intertwined. He took in their hands, the familiar warmth from Victor’s, and the gold rings that glistened side-by-side. “Do you want to get out of here?”  
       Victor watched him for a moment longer and did the same before standing and adjusting his blazer. He started toward him, placing a hand lightly on his back and leading him toward the door, uttering a string of thank yous to the staff and host they passed. They made their way into the night, and Yuri took a deep breath.  
       “Victor.” His fiancé hummed in response, and Yuri paused for a moment. “Thank you.”  
       “For what?”  
       “All of this.” He leaned against him as he felt Victor’s arm slide around his shoulders. He reached his own hand up and lightly touched his fingertips. “It probably wasn’t easy to do on such short notice.”  
       To his surprise, Victor chuckled. Instead, he squeezed the hand Yuri had raised to his, his finger lightly tracing his ring. “It wasn’t short notice, Yuri.”  
Yuri stopped and glanced up at his fiancé. Victor’s eyes were soft, and his lips opened and closed again, as if he were trying to choose his words carefully. “Then, why…” Yuri’s voice faded as Victor released him, taking his hand in his and stepping in front of him. “I thought this was a distraction.”  
       “Even I wouldn’t fly you to another country this close to a competition just to distract you,” Victor said, a playful gleam forming in his eyes. “Especially when there are so many other ways.”

 

***

 

       Yuri had grown familiar with the way his fiancé seemed to lose words when he kissed him. At times, Victor would stop mid-sentence as Yuri’s lips met his, brushed against and toyed with them. It seemed to be the case yet again as they found themselves in the open doorway between room and balcony, Victor resting his back against the frame and Yuri’s legs on either side of his. What was different though was how much Victor was trying to speak, even as Yuri’s lips brushed the corners of his, leaving a trail along his jawline and neck. Finally, he pushed Yuri back and rested a hand on the side of his face.  
       “I made you a promise,” he said, and Yuri leaned into his touch. His body was flushed, and Victor’s hand felt equally hot against his face.  
       “You can tell me later,” Yuri said, leaning in to kiss him again, only to be stopped partway.  
       “I’d feel guilty,” Victor insisted, his tone almost embarrassed. Slowly, Yuri sat back and waited as Victor’s eyes searched his. “Besides, you have the right to know.”  
       Yuri nodded slowly, feeling his heart pounding in his chest. There was something in the way Victor was looking at him that he couldn’t describe. His brow furrowed slightly as his fiancé’s lips opened and closed again. “Victor?”  
       “Damn it,” Victor muttered with a nervous laugh. “After all this, I’m still struggling.”  
       “Tell me.” Slowly, Yuri leaned forward and rested his forehead against his. He closed his eyes, repeating himself in a softer tone. He felt Victor’s hands rest on the sides of his neck in response, his thumb stroking the side of his face.  
       “Look at me.” Yuri’s eyes opened slightly on his command, and Victor took a deep breath. “I didn’t bring you here to distract you. I’d had another reason, one you beat me to back in Barcelona.” A soft smile crossed his face as Yuri’s eyes widened, the implication of his words sinking into every corner of his mind and chest. His voice was barely above a whisper when he spoke again. “You look surprised. Did you think even if you hadn’t asked first that I wouldn’t have asked you to marry me?”  
       “I…” Yuri realized as his voice failed that he hadn’t thought about it. He lowered his gaze, his heart racing as quickly as his mind. Of all the possibilities that had crossed his mind for this trip--distractions, vacations, even just an excuse to run away from responsibility for the weekend--this had never been one. There were days when he could hardly believe the situation as it was--that in a rare stroke of bravery, he’d given Victor Nikiforov a ring, and that for some reason, Victor had accepted. That was the story, what Yuri had finally accepted and understood. He opened his mouth and closed it again, at more of a loss for words than he’d ever been.  
       “I’m glad you asked me first. You always do surprise me.” Yuri glanced up again as Victor exhaled slowly, resting a hand beneath his chin. “I love you, Yuri.”  
       The words seemed to slip from his mouth more easily than the others had, and they lingered in Yuri’s ears, seeping into every fiber of his being. He knew--he’d known that Victor loved him. He had, and yet somehow, hearing it made the realization new again. He reached up, gently resting his hand over his fiancé’s wrist and stroking the soft skin there. He closed his eyes as Victor pressed his lips against his, slowly, softly, coaxing in the way he always did. Yuri knew what he wanted to say in return. He knew, but voice wouldn’t allow him, not even as Victor pulled back from the kiss, his eyes telling Yuri a secret that would only ever be between them. Letting out a shaky breath he closed the distance between them. He kissed him gently--almost as timidly as he had in their earliest days as lovers. He kissed his lips, his cheek, jawline. Lips again. He could feel Victor’s own pulse beneath his lips and his staccattoed breaths. His skin shuddered following his fiancé's touch as the other man’s fingertips brushed the back of his neck, making their way into his dark, gelled hair, gripping tightly and tugging. Yuri let out a soft moan as Victor’s grip tightened, his other hand trailed down his back, resting over the back pocket of his trousers.  
       Yuri paused, relenting from his fiancé’s neck and resting his forehead against his. He pressed his thumb against his lower lip, vaguely aware of his own eyes darkening in the same way Victor’s did, every bit as determined, every bit as full of love and want. He lowered his lips to Victor’s again, hovering so closely that they touched his when he spoke, a four-word command he’d never dared to utter outright before, and something he knew the answer to in the way Victor looked at him in response. “Make love to me,” he murmured again, standing and pulling his fiancé to his feet. He slipped his hands beneath the dark fabric of his fiancé’s shirt and pulled it overhead. He pressed his lips against the soft skin of his collarbone, pushing him back against the wall, hands exploring downward until they rested on Victor’s waist. He let one hand trail further, cupping the front of his jeans and feeling his own skin growing flushed at his fiancé let out a rough, shaky breath in response.  
       He didn’t hesitate as he felt Victor loosening his clothes, stopping only to help with the last of them before returning breathlessly to his neck as his sweater and trousers were tossed to the chair nearby. Victor’s fingers locked in his hair and pulled gently, tilting Yuri’s head back and kissing him, forcing his lips apart with his own. Yuri returned the kiss hungrily, letting his tongue and hands wander and savoring the other’s taste and touch. He laced his fingertips through his fiancé’s as Victor guided him to the bed and gently pushed him back against it, creaking loudly as Victor crawled over him, a small laugh escaping his lips.  
       “Maybe we should try somewhere else,” he said, pressing his weight against Yuri and murmuring in his ear. Yuri’s face flushed at his tone and the way his hips moved against his, the feeling his lips against his ear as they curled upward into a smile. Yuri stroked the back of his neck and turned to him, his lips brushing the corner of Victor’s as he spoke.  
       “It’ll just have to creak.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all who've supported me so far! We have just a bit left after this chapter, so I hope you'll continue to enjoy this story as much as I have while writing it. As always, please don't copy, re-post, or plagiarize any portion of this work. A link will be posted on Tumblr at http://www.random-animezing. tumblr.com. 
> 
> Comments are appreciated!


	5. Forward

       The morning air was crisp against Victor’s skin as he leaned against the balcony railing, a hot cup of coffee in hand. They’d slept in later than usual, and even then his sleeping beauty had taken a while to come to. Victor smiled and took a drink, Yuri’s wide but tired eyes and flushed face--likely due to memories of the night before--still a clear image in his mind. It usually was the case that Yuri would almost seem embarrassed after the fact, and again it’d been one of Victor’s many reasons for keeping him in bed even longer for more innocent purposes.  
       Despite it all, Victor couldn’t help but wonder if Yuri realized what he’d told him that morning. His voice had been low, so groggy it was more of a rumble, but every word had echoed in Victor’s mind loud and clear. Whether he’d been awake enough or not--whether he’d been aware at all--Victor had heard, and felt the words sinking into every fiber of his being.  
       He turned as he heard the shower turn off, soon replaced by Yuri’s quiet footsteps as he made his way around the room. An indescribable warmth flooded through him at the sight of his fiancé’s disheveled wet hair, flushed skin, mismatched pajamas, and slightly askew glasses. Yuri didn’t seem to notice him watching as he opened his suitcase, pulling out a fleece robe Victor had bought for him back in St. Petersburg and slipping one arm inside.  
       “Yuri, bring that here.” Yuri turned, a faint blush appearing on his cheeks as their eyes met. He blinked at him curiously for a moment and complied, still either too tired or disillusioned to ask questions. Victor set his coffee aside as he approached and wrapped the robe around him, loosely enough that it was comfortable and tight enough to keep Yuri warm. Once the robe was secure, Victor pulled him close and pressed his mouth against his dampened hair, breathing in the strange but pleasant combination of citrus and mint. “How are you feeling?”  
       “Hungry,” Yuri muttered softly, his arms folding around Victor’s waist. Victor couldn’t help but smirk at the response. Shifting slightly, he picked up his mug again and offered him a drink of his coffee. Yuri released him and grasped the mug with both hands, eagerly taking a sip. His eyelids lowered slightly as he drank, lowering the mug after a moment and running his thumb against the side. “Victor...did I...say something? Before, I mean.”  
       “You said a lot,” Victor teased, and Yuri’s face turned a rich shade of scarlet.  
       “I meant this morning.”  
       Victor smiled and placed a hand on the back of his neck. He let his thumb trail the side, to the tenderest skin at the curve. He let it linger there for a bit, feeling Yuri’s slow and steady pulse beneath his touch.  
       “They serve breakfast downstairs until ten thirty,” he said, watching Yuri’s brow furrow slightly. “There’s also another great cafe down the road. We could also bring something back here.”  
       Yuri watched him for a bit, his eyes seeming to study him as well as they could for his lack of sleep. After a moment, he sighed, handing back the mug.  
       “I want to try the cafe,” he said decisively, and Victor smiled.  
       “Then the cafe it is. Want to go now?” With Yuri’s nod, Victor started toward his suitcase.  
       “Victor.”  
       Victor paused and turned to him, raising a brow.  
       “I meant...what I said earlier.”  
       Victor held his fiancé’s gaze, giving him the softest smile he could muster and one that would never do his feelings justice. “I know.”  
       The two changed and packed up their belongings quickly, with Victor making one last scan of the suitcases and bags as he pulled on a shirt. He’d grown used to the pair of suitcases they brought with them on their travels: mismatched, with Yuri’s plain suitcase propped neatly against the dresser and his own packed so tightly it would barely zip. Somehow, the sight of them seemed to suit every room they stayed in. In a few hours, they’d be en route to the airport again, and everything would start returning to normal.  
       But first...  
       “Ready?” Yuri’s voice came from near the doorway. Victor smiled, adjusting his ring and fastening his watch.  
       “Ready.” For anything, he added in his mind as he followed his fiancé out the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading this fic! It's been a blast to write, and I hope that you all have enjoyed following Victor and Yuri on this little journey. I loved every minute of getting to explore their relationship, and it's not everyday that a fic writer has such a loving one to work with. 
> 
> Here's to wishing these two the best in future installments!
> 
> Please be sure to comment below if you enjoyed this fic, and check out my new writing blog at http://www.wyseink.tumblr.com. A link to this fic will be posted on my main blog at http://www.random-animezing.tumblr.com. As always, do not copy, re-post, or plagiarize any portion of this work.


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